


A Negative

by PetraTodd



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Vampire Sherlock, Vamplock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetraTodd/pseuds/PetraTodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, Molly Hooper believed that she was going to be quickly eaten and killed, in that order. Now after two weeks, she believed something much worse- that they would keep her alive for years, as punishment. The pathologist who’d been working with the rebellion to find a cure for the vampiric plague had unfortunately become too well-known, and would pay for it as an example.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Negative

**Author's Note:**

  * For [broomclosetkink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broomclosetkink/gifts).



At first, Molly Hooper believed that she was going to be quickly eaten and killed, in that order. Now after two weeks, she believed something much worse- that they would keep her alive for years, as punishment. The pathologist who’d been working with the rebellion to find a cure for the vampiric plague had unfortunately become too well-known, and would pay for it as an example.

Molly huddled in the dark corridor, mashed against the bodies of the other captured humans and trying not to breathe too deeply through her nose to avoid inhaling the foul odors surrounding her. The chill of the winter settled into the drafty hall but it went unnoticed by their vampire guards who were impervious to such things. She squinted at the cracks in the boards above them and decided it was nearly night. Feeding time. She shuddered.

Not feeding for her. No, not for the humans.

For _them._

Almost as if on cue, the double doors were unbarred and flung open like they weighed nothing, though Molly knew that they would be impossible for human arms to move.

A pale-faced soldier marched into the narrow holding area and scanned the room. He sniffed the air, and pushed through the shaking mass of people. The prisoners skittered away from him and the whip in his hands. Molly shrank against the wall and looked down, letting her tangled brown hair fall forward over her face. She prayed for the sudden power of invisibility.

But it was futile. A cold hand jerked her chin up and unnatural copper eyes assessed her. The soldier sniffed again and he nodded, satisfied.

“A-negative. They said there was one A-negative female in the lot. The VIP’s got a taste for that flavor. It’s your lucky night. To the showers first though. You smell worse than a dog after a roll in the mud. _Humans,_ you’re fucking _filthy,”_ he said, his fangs flaring in disgust.

* * *

The tunic they allowed her to don after the shower barely reached her thighs, but she was grateful for that much. The shower had been short but felt glorious after two weeks of living in a shack. The shampoo and conditioner she was given in the showers, now _that_ was a shock. At first she thought it was some sort of trick; perhaps poison in the bottle, something toxic to sicken her or make her hair fall out, as an amusing form of torture. Why bother making her hair manageable and sweet-smelling? Her long hair would have been a nightmare to comb out without it. And the tunic, though plain, was soft to the touch and clean.

She was still marveling at how refreshed she felt, when the sickening reality hit her. She was being primed, of course. They wanted her to be appetizing, to look pretty when they fed her to someone.

Molly’s eyes welled up and her fists clenched. She tried to breathe slowly, but despair was choking her.

The soldier returned, ignoring her the single tear that dripped onto her cheek. The steel-tipped whip at his waist quelled any rebellion that surged in her gut. She could survive being bled. She _could._ Others had, and returned to holding. She needed to survive long enough for the rebellion to rescue her. She wasn’t a soldier, but she was smart and she was a survivor.

Molly wiped away the tear track from her face and forced a smile onto her face. “I’m ready.”

* * *

She didn’t know what she had expected but the opulence of the feast shocked her. It reminded her of paintings of the Bacchanalia, only the men lounging on the sofas wore perfectly tailored suits instead of Roman garb. The sensuality in the air was heavy, with couples draped over each other already. She watched in fascination as a beautiful woman straddled a muscular young man, tugged on the chain attached to his collar, and kissed her way down his throat before yanking the collar off and sinking her teeth in. The young man writhed in ecstasy against her, until he fell limp in her arms.

Molly’s hands shook, and she knew if she’d eaten that morning’s gruel, it would be on the floor.

“A-negative. Move your arse.” The soldier jabbed Molly with the handle of his whip and she stumbled, having difficulty seeing in the dark room. The vampires, not needing much light, hadn’t bothered with more than a handful of candles. The soldier grabbed her arm and pushed her forward until she tripped and landed with her face nearly on top of a pair of shiny shoes.

From above came a voice, deep and amused. “I take it dinner is served?”

* * *

Molly moved to scoot back from his shoes, but a large hand came down and slipped into her hair, holding her in place. She lifted her head slightly to peek up at him, and found two silver-blue eyes drinking her in. They glowed with curious intelligence and most disconcertingly, without any malice. She held his stare and after a moment, felt a delicious light-headedness flow through her. The blueness of his eyes grew warmer, greener and she felt an odd sense of safeness settle inside of her.

Until he smiled tightly, and a pair of fangs slid their sheaths, their lethal points snapping her out of whatever spell he’d cast. She cringed back, and his smile grew wider. His hand in her hair dipped deeper, until he was cradling her scalp.

“Up,” he ordered.

Molly hurried to her feet, tugging at the hem on her tiny tunic. The vampire sat back, allowing the faint light of a candle in a sconce to illuminate him briefly. Like most of those who contracted the plague and survived it, he appeared young, no more than his midthirties, with a strong nose and high cheekbones to match his catlike eyes. The dark Byronic curls were unusual and she wondered for a moment if he deliberately affected the look in homage to horror movie vampires.

His mouth curled into a smirk, and his eyes twinkled. She had the strangest sensation that he’d known what she was thinking. He shook his head slightly, and then looked to his left and right. The amused look dropped from his face, and through a blur of motion, she found herself hauled onto his lap, her arse pulled snugly against his bulge and her face inches from his. Her body relaxed into him, even though some part of her knew it was wrong.

“A-negative?” he murmured, lifting her long damp hair and brushing it away from her throat.

She felt her heart hammering and was sure he must hear it pounding. “Yes.“

The Cupid’s bow of his mouth was hovering above hers. “Your name?”

She swallowed, and licked her dry lips. “Molly.”

His hands on her arms tightened. “Good. Very good. My name is Sherlock. _Yes_ , it’s my real name. You have to trust me, Molly Hooper.” He cupped her face, and brushed his thumb over her lip. His voice dropped low. “Things are done a certain way here. And there is…an audience.”

“I don’t understand.” She squirmed in his lap. The sounds of the feast around them grew distant in her ears. The moans of the blood donors receded, even as the feeding faded and gave way to fucking. The night was reaching the peak, and she was in the heart of it, in this vampire’s lap, and all she wanted to do was kiss the perfect angles of his mouth.

“You’ll understand soon enough,” he said, strangely cheerful. “Right then. I really do have a fondness for A-negative. That wasn’t a lie.”

* * *

 

He spread her legs so she was straddling his thighs and pulled her tight against him, one hand locked against the small of her back while the other secured her neck. Molly threw her hair back and tilted her head, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as he bent to lick her. She felt the first wet touch of his mouth on her, with the initial vampiric anesthetic pressing into her and she rocked into his erection.

“Try to stay still, I really don’t want to make a mess of your skin unlike the enthusiastic couple over there,” he muttered. “Amateurs.”

“Sorry,” she sighed.

His mouth came down again, and his teeth followed. Molly tensed, feeling the pressure, but relaxed when she realized there was no pain. Just a tingling, and a warmth, and then _ohhh._

Her endorphins and the chemicals of the vampire’s bite poured through Molly’s body as Sherlock fed, and she needed to move against him again. She didn’t care who was watching. His left hand dug into her hips, pushing her down against his clothed cock, teasing them both while her blood filled his mouth and he took her in.

Molly wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned, understanding now how the young man had felt. After weeks of fear, it felt so damned good just to let go. She widened her thighs, with only the thinnest scrap of knickers between her pussy and Sherlock’s bulge.

He tore his mouth from her throat and lapped at the wound. The cuts were small, and barely trickled, but she felt some pain as soon as his mouth came away. She winced and her frenzied motions against him slowed.

“Blood’s not enough. You do taste amazing though. Fuck.” He wrapped his arms around Molly and kissed her hard on the mouth.

“I can’t believe it feels so good,” Molly confessed between kisses, her hips still rolling against his body. “You’re lovely. I thought- oh!” Her thought was interrupted as Sherlock rolled her onto her back on the sofa.

“New plan.” In the dark around them, the feast was at its height, with the carnality reaching a pitch. No one noticed as Sherlock ripped her knickers off and stuffed them into his pocket. He crawled on top of Molly and pushed her tunic over her belly. Stroking the soaking wetness between her legs, he looked into her eyes and nodded resolutely. “I’m keeping you.”

* * *

His cock hurt more than his teeth, was the first thing that popped into her head. Unlike the bite, there was no anesthetic for the thickness that pushed into her, stretching her. She was wet and ready but he was big. Her legs lifted and her toes curled as she wiggled, trying to find the room to accommodate the sheer girth of him inside her. After a moment’s adjustment, she exhaled and dug her nails into his shoulders until he bled, encouraging him.

He hissed and fucked her harder until she wailed and clung to him as her anchor. He stroked and squeezed her nipples as he pumped into her, making her pussy even wetter once he determined how she liked to be touched. It amazed her how observant he was even as he slid into her. He was like no vampire she’d ever known.

It didn’t surprise her that he knew what she needed in the end too, when he grabbed her hand and placed it on her clit while he lifted her hips higher. He pounded into her while she rubbed herself and the second after they came together, his teeth was in her throat again.

This time, leaving a Mark.

* * *

_“What the fuck have you done, Holmes?!”_

“Oops.” He shrugged, and pulled out a billfold. “Restitution for the inconvenience. Got carried away. She is a sweet blood type.” Sherlock smirked toward Molly, and passed a wad of money toward the warden.

“Such a breach of etiquette won’t go unpunish-“

“Yes it will.” And it would. Sherlock met the warden’s eyes and knew he’d won. Mycroft was far too valuable an ally, not worth alienating over one prisoner. Not even a prisoner that some would enjoy torturing. “I do apologize for forgetting myself and Marking her. But I’ll take her off your hands. I don’t imagine she has any belongings to pack. Sooooo…we’ll be off then.” He grinned as the black car rolled up. He gestured for Molly to get in and waved at the fuming warden as the door closed.

* * *

As the limo cruised along, Molly sat in the car silent and shaking. Those who were Marked were bound to a Vampire, not changed into one but connected. Only he could feed on her. It could be undone with some medical procedures but it wasn’t easy. She knew she was drawn to him, but she was who she was, at heart. One night of glorious, body-quaking sex with a handsome vampire wasn’t going to change that.

She was mulling over her conflicted heart, when the video phone in the car rang. Sherlock answered, and the screen filled with a smiling face that was to Molly’s shock, completely familiar.

“What- John?! What the- Are you collaborating with them?” Her heart fell. Collaborators seemed to be cropping up within the rebellion more and more often these days. Dr. Watson would be a terrible loss, though, with his medical skills.

But the blond man laughed at her accusation. “Jesus, Molly, I would hope you know me a little better than that. I can’t believe you’re out, by the way. Not that I’m not glad to see you, but I thought it was going to take a few more weeks.”

She threw her head in her hands. “I am so confused. This has been the worst month of my life. I am starved, I’ve been tortured and captured and I was Marked, and now you’re laughing at me, and I don’t know what is going on.” She bit her lip, fighting off crying.

“Fine. Short version,” Sherlock replied, sounding bored. “Operation Doctor Hooper Escapes. Phase 1 Recon, Phase 2 Extraction.”

“Yeah well apparently, Holmes here combined phases 1 and 2,” John said, scratching his head. “What happened? You were supposed to make sure she was still alive, maintain your cover and report back.”

“Well, she was indeed the only A-negative in the small pool of prisoners,” Sherlock said, meeting Molly’s eyes, and his gaze drifted to her throat. “We met. And things…got out of hand.”

“Got out of hand.” John paused. Molly saw the familiar wrinkles of the doctor’s forehead working. “Did she just say she was Marked, Sherlock?”

“Yep.”

John’s eyes bugged out. “Sherlo-“

The video phone turned off.

“Be hearing about this one for a while,” Sherlock said drily. He put down the video phone control.

“So you’re…”

“With the rebellion, yes. As is my brother. We’d prefer to have the option of the cure someday, frankly. The vampiric plague is not good for the planet. It’s a virus that’s overrunning the environment.”

Molly turned to Sherlock. A slow smile crept over her face. “So I’m free. I’m not anyone’s prisoner.”

“No. You could jump out of the car at the next stop if you like. I don’t recommend it. That would be stupid, really.”

“I agree.” She crawled into his lap, and Sherlock looked at her in surprise. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I could have waited you know. But I didn’t want to. I could have taken some blood and left and hoped you survived long enough for rescue. But instead I took you and Marked you.”

“Marking doesn’t have to be for life. I have a choice.” She kissed him. “In all things. Where are we going right now?”

“To my family estate. They’re still watching us. They’re going to be angry for a bit. But we can do business safely from my home for some time.” He clasped her hand.

“Good. And we can do other things.” She wrapped her hand around his neck and drew him close. “I really never thought I would like someone…you know, biting me. But it was quite nice.”

He nuzzled her throat. “Like I said, I wasn’t lying. You really are my favorite flavor.”

 


End file.
